drop the i

a twisted

gratitude






i said


drop the i
drop the i
drop the il


keep the legal






legitimize


my tongue


respect my accent


quarantine the colors


that project


“poor and


criminal”






c’mon


let’s


be


equal






i said


drop the i






i said


drop the il


keep the legal


cause i never want to be your mirror


the other


your “equal”




that lets you get away


with some


straight


out


racist shit


genocidal garbage


like damn,


“did this fool just say that shit”


divide and conquer


cut the chains of


charity corners


famed lotto liquor store owners


making payments for a life


you have yet to live


enjoy


better said


annoy the fuck out of it


so that our imprints


libres, lindas, y locas


invite the recollection


of a memory


from within


impartially breathing


call in 2 being


what we whispered to the scribes in the heavens


we wanted to become






All or None of Us






gentrifying deaths


indebted to the interest rate


of pelican bay hunger strikers


S.H.U.I.ng starvation though every cell


in the golden state


for humanity






castigate their own shadows


orchestrate a fire that burns


louder than pre 4th of July firework


laker championship


Dodgers versus Giants baseball game


kind of riots


buckled in chains


without permission


take over their selfs






so if you feel like a petrifying wetback faggot caught your eye






call it like it is


so that no one has to hide


so that third genders


are as visible to us as our third eyes


so that duality is not just a standard option


of a partriachal dichotomous potion






cause queer is a politic


history has afforded us to


maintain


(2x)






transcend tranny titles


spirit at our core


self-centered botox vultures


american


A-list toy boy


need to have it culture


nurtures hate


and


neglects to interject


so i don’t claim this shit as mine


in taxes and titles


write off


my idols


for saints


that castrate mistakes


im with a holier kind of death




a more humane way to understand the


exits


and fire escapes


of this here land of the great






but man made laws weren’t made for me


a heavenly scion


morphed every morning


ren, yi, li zhi, xin,






what is criminal?


when sinners are considered saints


when the


waving flag


of corporations


signal a more humane occupation


when these have more rights


than the population of the foreign nation they


efface through drought and starvation






cause


to love something is to want it to live


and if you love this city


thrive from within


like the homeboi says


“he who wants a rose must respect the thorn”


people of the corn are reborn outside of concrete jungle walls






in this western world we all medicate,


in obsessive lust,


w. self-centerness,


desiring material


musts


outside of ourselves...






suffocate our realities for the verbs


that orchestrate


a sick pathology to feed off of drama,


misery, and emotional comas where only right and wrong matter


..fuck the gray matter,


pavement n dirt have


always been my favorite color

summer fevers

I sit down to write this play with fear

about the truth I will share

In this case, my take of what it was for others

Aside from a collective memory

that some rather not share with me,

I trace most crossroads

to moments

where I didn’t feel lost

I remember the need to

trust

to believe in something greater-

In me

not outside in satisfactory complacent contentment’s

but true peace

I heard the voice within

the paranormal mumbles

in cold feet

in doubt

in intuitive stomach growls

turn into

restless night aches

boiling nightmares

into summer fevers

yes the moments where I had no recollection of being a quitter

I’ve grown

And the comparison

still shows

In my demeanor,

I don’t care to be like anyone else

Role models 

disguise the distance between making it

and breaking back midnight hour graveyard watchmen days

But heroes

Do exist

Not superman like

A series of prescribed events

Heavenly sent

Malinalli

Sprouts

Changes

rains in each of us,

the redundancy of bringing the past into the ever so unpredictable yet "coincidental" now

where its heavy to carry

the imprints of a

thousand loves

and lives lived

proclivities aside,

if a player recognize game:

then my friend-

we’ve already met

cause all the things that i hate

about others

starts with myself

cause we give meaning to livelihoods by adding titles

to the careers we profess ourselves to

be born to do

a twisted

gratitude

to find a place where silence is golden

where we are not told what to do

what to wear

when to swear

or whom to pledge allegiance to.

until this day i can count the times i raised my right hand over my heart

it’s an art

a translucent penchant

to be lied to

seduced

into abuse

a ridicule of gadgets and distractions

like a kitties trip to a petco

kind of satisfaction

the ethos

a credo that

sings 2-maybe-3

Mex’s

reza 4 corazones del pueblo

y canta 5 leimerts

el mundo te da

donde mas te duele

mero mero

where

it hurts

si le hablas

escucha

y

si escuchas

habla

recio

suave

amable

sin rencor

ni malicia